A Second Chance
by A Cute But Psycho Bunny
Summary: “I can’t believe she’s back. I can’t believe she remembers us. I can’t believe I’m getting a second chance…” Full summary inside.
1. Default Chapter

**..:: Disclaimer ::..**

If you recognize it, it's JK Rowling's. If you don't, it's mine.

**..:: Explanations ::..**

PB: My first Romione fic. Sad, huh? I've been meaning to do one for a while, but Along Came a Veela popped up first. So, here's one now.

Bob: That's a crappy explanation!

PB: So? Anyway, flames are welcome, as always. I use them to roast marshmallows ;D. And it's rated just in case, cuz I have no clue where this fic is going, except it'll end up Romione. And to make up for such a crappy explanation, here's a prologue.

**..:: Prologue ::..**

Eighteen years. She had been gone eighteen whole years. Just disappeared without a trace. And now she's back with a daughter. A daughter with hair as black as the night and eyes as green as emeralds. She back with a daughter, but not a father. And I think I know why.

"Harry? Harry, say something."

I never expected her to turn up one rainy night, dressed like a French lady, with a tall, skinny girl in tow. I never expected to see her again, not after what she did to us.

"Harry, I know you must hate me. But, can I please explain?"

"Hermione, you're eighteen years late for explanations." There. I finally forced the words out.

Ginny shoved her way past me, squealing. "Hermione! I can't believe you're back! Why did you leave? We – oh."

Ah. She's seen the girl now. That girl is starting to look very uncomfortable. Ginny's glancing from me to her and back again. Well. Hermione _does_ have a lot to explain.

"Come on in."

* * *

**PB**, "Don't shoot! Don't throw, either. (ducks quickly in case of flying sharp objects) Okay, yes, I know I said this is a Romione fic, and it is! So, right now, you guys are probably all like, "WTF? Shouldn't she have showed up at Ron's door and not Harry's?" And yes, the girl does look like Harry's child. Gee, did I just make a point? That's for me to know and you to guess. So, obviously, 18 years later, Ginny and Harry are married with a number of kids. I'll name them in the next chapter. And from now on, I'll be writing in 3rd person. 1st person was just for the prologue. So, since I like making Draco a good guy, I'm bringing him into this story somehow. Oh yeah, Link suggested making him gay. What's your opinion on that?"

**Joe**, "AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Runs away screaming from fangirls brandishing steak knives.

**PB**, "I thought so. So, who should I put Draco with? ABSOLUTELY NOT Pansy or Luna. Suggest someone else, or should I make up an OC? There'll be quite a few in here....the Potter children, for one; Hermione's daughter, for another (who will have the last name Granger due to the fact that she doesn't know who her father is – heck, even I don't know; but I do have an idea); and, of course, Draco's kids. So, go review! My bunnies will be coming back from Jamaica in November, you know...."


	2. 1 The Offsprings

**..:: Chapter 1 ::..**

**PB**, "Yay, a review! Thank you to HiddnePortrait for reviewing! Also, I now have an idea for Draco's wife. I'm not too keen on making an OC, either, so she'll be half of one. They got married 19 years ago, but she died in childbirth. They have one son, who will be introduced in this chapter, along with the Potter children. Okay, so on to the story!"

* * *

Rachelle fidgeted uncomfortably. While her mother was busy talking things over with Harry and Ginny, she was stuck here, with all their kids goggling at her. She fiddled with her hair, something she always did when she was nervous. "Um. Hi. I'm Rachelle."

"Who's your father?" one of the youngest kids piped up. There were five of them.

The oldest – a girl – shushed him. She had auburn-colored hair and brown eyes. "James! That's no way to talk to anyone." She glanced at Rachelle. "Sorry. He's 10, he should _know better_." She glared at James. "I'm Gabriella," she said, extending her hand. As Rachelle shook it, she continued. "I'm 18, and the oldest." She pointed at a girl who looked a few years younger than her, and had inherited Harry's black hair. Her eyes, however, were blue. "That's Christine, and she's 15; that's Nicole, and she's 13-" Nicole looked exactly like Ginny. "-And these are the twins, James and Sirius." She indicated the two identical boys, both with Harry's black, messy hair; but their eyes were brown. None of them had Harry's green eyes.

"Nice to meet you all," Rachelle said with a smile that was only half-forced. "And James, if I knew who my father was, I'd tell you. But I don't."

"You don't?" Sirius asked. He squinted at her. "You look like our dad."

Rachelle shook her head. "Everyone says that. But my mom says that Mr. Potter's definitely not my dad."

"Mr. Potter?" Nicole said. "Why don't you just say Harry? Everyone else does."

"I've only just met him," Rachelle explained.

"Yeah, but your mom and our parents go way back," Christine pointed out. "I don't think Dad would mind. He doesn't like it when people call him Mr. Potter. He says it makes him feel old." She rolled her eyes; Harry was apparently oblivious to the fact that he was twice as old as he acted.

"Just call him Harry," Nicole said. "Or Uncle Harry, that's what all our cousins call him."

"Well, he really _is_ their uncle," Rachelle said.

"Alex calls him Uncle Harry, and he's not related to us at all," James said.

"Who's-" Rachelle began, but was cut off by a loud crack in the next room, followed by a "Sup, Uncle Harry, Aunt Gin – oh. Well, Dad's coming." There were footsteps, and then Alex Malfoy appeared in the doorway.

If someone had made a clone of Draco, it would look exactly like Alex. Platinum blonde hair, icy-blue eyes, albino-like skin that nevertheless made him even cuter, and, of course, the trademark Malfoy smirk.

Christine rolled her eyes at him. "You're such a show-off," she said. "You're worse than Uncle Gred and Forge."

"What do you expect?" Alex said. His voice had the same drawl to it. "Growing up between Weasleys and a Malfoy, it's hardly a surprise I love to flaunt my talents."

Christine rolled her eyes for the third time in a minute. Rachelle wondered if it was a hobby. "Loser," Christine muttered.

Alex finally saw Rachelle. "Who's she?" he asked rather bluntly.

Gabriella rolled her eyes this time. Maybe it was a family trait. "Your manners are just _impeccable_," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm like juice dripping from a bruised peach. "This is Rachelle – er – Granger. Hermione's daughter."

"Oh, her." He laughed. "So _you're_ the reason Hermione ran away." His laughter was as achingly cruel as Draco's had been, before his father had killed his mother and then committed suicide. "Honestly, the look on his face..." he trailed off, nearly doubled over in laughter.

"That's hardly a laughing matter, Alex," Gabriella snapped.

"Why isn't it, Gabby? It's not like you were there," Alex said.

"One, never call me that. And two, I seriously doubt that you can remember it at all, considering you were, what? Two months old?"

"Three months, fifteen days," Alex said. "And I do remember it."

"Remember what?" Rachelle broke in.

"Your mom," Christine said.

"What about her?"

"Don't you know why she ran away?" Nicole asked.

"Well, she was pregnant with me, and she didn't know who the father was," Rachelle said.

"She didn't tell you about a certain man?" Gabriella prompted.

Rachelle shook her head. "No," she said. "Why? What happened?"

"Yes, Alex, do enlighten us," Gabriella said.

Alex opened his mouth to retort – or retell. No one knew, because at that moment there was an outburst from his father.

"YOU NEVER TOLD HER??"

"What she doesn't know won't hurt her," Hermione retorted just as loudly.

"She has a right to know!" Draco yelled. "He could be her father!"

"But he's _not_. That's the thing," Hermione said.

"You don't know that for sure," Draco reminded her.

Rachelle ran over to the door and threw it open. "Who could be my father?" she asked. "And, Mom, what _did_ you do eighteen years ago?"

* * *

**PB**, "Hehehe, a cliffie! The next chapter will be a flashback to what happened that fateful day 18 years ago. There'll be more flashbacks throughout the story, to be put in when I feel it is ready to be revealed. Also, I now know who Rachelle's father is! And the black hair and green eyes will all be explained later....much later. And I know, I'm making Alex a bit of an ass, but that's just Alex! He might loosen up later.....or not. That's for me to know, and you to guess. Now go review!"


	3. 2 Flashback

**..:: Chapter 2 – Flashback ::..**

In a bathroom just off the bride's dressing room, Hermione was currently kneeling over the toilet, retching up what little breakfast she had eaten.

Ginny opened the door. "Come on, Hermione!" She saw Hermione's pale face. "Oh, you're just nervous. Go on, rinse out your mouth, you need to get into your dress!" she said briskly.

Trust Ginny to be the only one keeping her head. Ron was probably even more nervous than Neville in Potions with Snape an inch away from him. Hermione staggered out of the bathroom.

"Hurry up!" Ginny said, stripping Hermione down to a slip and carefully handing her the wedding gown to step into. "Oh, you look beautiful in it," Ginny gasped as she zipped up the back. With a flick of her wand, Hermione's hair was sleek and shiny. Another flick later, they were in springy curls, with half bunched in a curly ponytail.

Ginny carefully placed the veil over her head. "There," she said. "You look perfect." A shadow crossed her face. "It's too bad Draco couldn't come."

"He's got Alex to worry about," Hermione said. "And it's only been a month since Janine..."

Ginny frowned. "Don't think about that," she said firmly. "Not today. Draco's dealing with it very well, and he's been affected by it the most. Right now, you just worry about walking down that aisle without tripping." She couldn't hug Hermione without mussing her dress, so instead she squeezed her arm. "Don't worry," she assured her. "Harry and I will be there for both of you the whole way."

"Thank you so much," Hermione said, tears pricking at her eyes.

"Don't cry!" Ginny exclaimed, alarmed. "I'll have to do your makeup over again." She dabbed frantically but cautiously at Hermione's eyes with a tissue. "There. You're fine now. Come on."

Hermione waited behind the double doors with rising apprehension. Caterpillars writhed in her stomach as Fred and Angelina's daughter, the flowergirl, and George and Alicia's son, the ringbearer, walked down the aisle as solemnly as 5 year-olds could. The caterpillars grew into baby butterflies as the bridesmaids and groomsmen walked down the aisle as well, and then those butterflies grew to the size of dinner plates as Ginny and Harry promenaded down the aisle, arm in arm.

The band struck up the wedding march. _Dun DUN dun duuuuun, dun DUN dun duuuuun, dun dun dun DUN dun dun dun dun-dun-dun-dun duuuuun..._

The doors opened, and heads turned to watch her. Hermione took a deep breath, attempted to quell the giant butterflies in her stomach and failed, and walked down the aisle as slowly as she dared. Her whole body was shaking, she felt clammy all over, and she was certain that there were now goosebumps on her arms.

She arrived at the altar after what seemed like an eternity. The ceremony passed in a blur, and before Hermione realized it, they were at the "I do"s.

"Do you, Ronald Weasley, take Hermione Granger to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, to honor and to cherish, until death do you part?"

Ron looked straight at Hermione. It took the last of her already frayed nerves to hold his gaze. "I do," he said firmly.

"And do you, Hermione Granger, take Ronald Weasley to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, to honor and to cherish, until death do you part?"

All of Hermione's breath left her. Ron was still looking at her, but she avoided his gaze, instead looking at the priest. She hesitated. "I – I –" Her throat was completely dry. Through her peripheral vision, she could see Ron's smile faltering. Her heart was breaking. She didn't want to do this to him. She closed her eyes and her mouth, took another deep breath, and tried again. "I –" she stopped. She tried one last time. "I – I – I can't." She had failed.

Gasps traveled throughout the small church. Ron's face completely fell. She couldn't bear to look at him. "I'm sorry," she whispered to his shoes, then turned and ran down the aisle.

Several heartbeats later, Ron came to his senses. "Hermione!" he yelled, running out of the chapel after her. But she was long gone. The last thing Ron had to remember her of was the dying echo of the air-splitting crack of her Apparating away, out of his life, to disappear in a heartbreaking escape.

Later, if people found it odd to see a woman in a wedding dress – complete with a veil and a bouquet – boarding a plane to France with nothing but her ticket, they didn't say a word. And if any saw the tears running down her cheeks, saw her shoulders shaking as she cried silently, they did nothing to comfort her. Many looked at her sympathetically, and little girls gazed in awe at her dress, too shy to ask for a flower from her bouquet; but most simply glanced at her, then glanced away again with a shake of their head. Because, no matter how anyone acted, they all knew what she had done, they all knew that she had broken a man's heart, they all knew she was running away to disappear. They all thought the tears were because of her shame at her cowardice.

They all were wrong. She hadn't shown yet, but she would soon. The tears weren't because of her cowardice. They were because that, even though she had managed to banish the butterflies in her stomach, she knew that there was something else growing there. Something that wouldn't go away so easily. And she cried because, as much as she wished it wasn't true, she knew that that something wasn't a Weasley.

Hermione sat next a window right over the wing, watching with eyes blinded by tears as the plane took off and flew away, the ground shrinking. Would she ever come back? Maybe. One day. One day far from now. But she knew in her heart that even if she did come back, and if she did find them again, it would never be the same. She knew in her heart that she would never get a second chance.

* * *

**PB**, "So, whaddya think? Let me know in your review! Do you know who the father is?"

**PB (again!)**, "Yeah, these were all reposted. My other stories got deleted! Cuz of my little A/Ns in script form or w/e. So, yeah, bear with me people, they'll be up again in 1 week! With new chappies!"


	4. 3 The Trouble With Teatime

**..:: Chapter 3 – The Trouble With Teatime ::..**

**PB**, "Okay, so I know that Alex really isn't related to the Potters or any of the Weasleys, but since he grew up with them, he calls them all Aunt and Uncle. And since Rachelle's getting to know them, she'll be calling them Aunt and Uncle, too, mkay? Also, is Gred Fred and Forge George, or is Gred George and Forge Fred? I don't know really. Well, in this, Gred is Fred, and Forge is George. Oh yeah, and don't worry, **the Widow Dracula**, this is not a time-turner fic. The reason behind Rachelle's appearance – well, I'll get to that later."

* * *

"You _walked out _on Ron Weasley?" Rachelle demanded. "Mom, why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you stay? Why?"

Hermione sighed and rubbed her temples. "It's not as simple as that," she said with a sigh. "Ron's not your father, but I ran away because….because of who your father really is."

"And who, pray tell, is that?" Rachelle asked scathingly.

"I can't tell you," Hermione said. "Not yet. When you're older."

Rachelle sighed. "Mom, I'm _eighteen_ years old. How much older do I need to be to know who my father is?" Her eyes widened slightly. "It isn't Uncle Harry, right? Because I know you've said no before, but I'm not so sure anymore, seeing as you've lied to me all this time…"

"No!" Hermione and Harry both burst out simultaneously. Harry had a grin on his face, though; he had noticed that Rachelle had called him Uncle Harry.

"If it's not Uncle Harry, then why is she the spitting image of him?" Alex asked, drawling as usual.

"I-" Hermione opened her mouth, then stopped. "I have no clue," she said.

Ginny glanced at Harry, who glanced at Draco, who glanced at Hermione. They all shrugged. Rachelle and all her new "cousins" couldn't make head or tail of what their parents were doing, and looked at each other quizzically.

"How could that have happened?" Ginny murmured.

"I don't know," Hermione responded.

"Um," Gabriella said. "Mom? Dad?"

Ginny glanced up. "Yes?" she asked in a rather resigned tone; the adults really would have preferred that they didn't all come bursting in like that.

"Well, you remember, um, Uncle, um Ron?" Gabriella said hesitantly, aware that she was starting on a very sensitive subject.

"Do you really have to bring this up right now, dear?" Harry asked, sounding just as resigned as Ginny.

"It's not that!" Gabriella responded quickly. "It's just that-"

There was a loud crack, and none other than Ron Weasley appeared in front of them. Gripping his hand tightly was a woman with auburn-colored hair and dark amber eyes. They both had grins on their faces, which were instantly replaced with shock and disbelief when they saw who else had paid the Potters a visit.

"You invited them to tea," Gabriella finished in a small voice.

There was a moment of shocked silence, which was broken by – who else? – Alex.

"Hey, Uncle Ron," he said. "How are you doing? Heya, Aunt Jamila."

"Hello, Alex," Jamila forced out. "We didn't know you and your father would be coming over."

"Yeah, well, Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry got a little surprise. May I introduce Rachelle," Alex said, sounding unusually (and very creepily, Rachelle thought) cordial. "She's a long-lost cousin."

"Um. Hi," Rachelle said, sticking her hand out.

Jamila hesitated, then shook it. "It's wonderful to meet you," Rachelle said.

"So, Uncle Ron," Alex said. "I believe you have met her mother?"

Ron stared. "Hermione?" he gasped out.

Hermione smiled hesitantly and uncomfortably. "Hi, Ron."

"Oh, _you're_ Hermione?" Jamila said, with a hint of frostiness in her voice. "I don't believe we've been properly introduced. I'm Jamila," she said, holding out her hand. "Ron's fiancée."

"Ron's fiancée?" Hermione repeated. "I'm…very happy for the two of you," she managed.

Ron looked at Rachelle. "Harry…" he began slowly.

"She's not," Harry said quickly.

"Why does everyone think that Harry's my dad?" Rachelle asked, rather annoyed by the repetitiveness.

"Because you look like him," Christine said. "And really, how many people have black hair and green eyes?"

"Well, if I knew who my _dad is_," Rachelle stressed, glaring at her mother, "I'd tell you why."

"No use trying that with me, Rachelle," Hermione said. "You're too young to know."

"Oh, and I suppose now you're going to send me to my room," Rachelle snapped back.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"I was being _sarcastic_!"

Roughly a minute later found Rachelle sitting on Gabriella's bean-bag chair with a scowl on her face.

"Oh, it's not that bad," Nicole said. She and Christine were lying on Gabriella's bed, and James and Sirius were both sprawled on the floor. Gabriella herself was sitting in her butterfly chair; the Potter kids had decided to accompany Rachelle while she was grounded.

"I can't believe she actually sent you to Gabriella's room," Sirius said, shaking his head.

"I didn't either," Rachelle said.

"Mom doesn't even send me and Sirius to our room," James said.

"That's because last time she did, the two of you nearly blew up the house trying to invent powder fire without Uncle Gred and Forge's help," Christine said.

"You two made that?" Rachelle asked.

"Yep," Sirius said proudly. "Flames in a Can." He pulled out a tiny can and shook it; a fine white powder came out and settled on the rug. Within seconds, the carpet had caught fire.

Rachelle gasped, but the Potter girls didn't do anything more than yawn. James laughed at Rachelle's expression and scooped up the flames into his hand. As soon as it touched his skin, it turned back into powder. He then tipped it back into the can. "It took us forever to get it to turn back into powder," he said.

"You can't take all the credit," Nicole said. "Uncle Gred and Forge helped a LOT."

"Yeah, but it was our idea, and we did most of the work," Sirius said. "They just provided the money and the wandwork."

"And all the brainpower," Nicole added. "You guys just came up with it, don't inflate your ego."

"And they took the blame whenever it blew up in your faces," Christine said.

"They were missing their eyebrows for a whole month," Nicole said to Rachelle.

"But it was worth it in the end," James said.

Gabriella shook her head. "They're just like their uncles," she said.

"And our namesakes," Sirius added.

"We're working on something new now," James said. "Click-and-Pick Quick-Quills."

"What they mean is, they came up with the name and the idea, and Uncle Gred and Forge are slaving away trying to get it right," Gabriella said.

"What are Click-and-Pick Quick-Quills?" Rachelle asked.

"They're lock picks!" Sirius said.

"But they look like regular quills," James said. "Except there's a hidden button you press, and the tip turns into a lock pick."

"You mean like a Muggle lock pick?" Rachelle said.

"Only better," Sirius said. "You put the quill in the keyhole, click, and presto!"

"The tip changes into a lock pick designed especially for the lock," James said.

"It's a working progress," Sirius added.

"A _long_ working progress," Nicole said. "Uncle Gred and Forge are having a little bit of trouble making the tip change in the lock."

"It sounds awesome," Rachelle said.

"I like her," James said to Gabriella.

"Yeah, she's way more supportive than you guys," Sirius added.

"Trust me," Gabriella said to Rachelle, "If you've lived with them for as long as we have, you'd get bored of their boastings, too."

Suddenly, there was a thud against Gabriella's window. "What was that?" Rachelle said.

Gabriella got up and wrenched open the window. "Cut that out, Alex!" she yelled.

Alex was hovering on his broomstick at the other end of the yard level to Gabriella's window, tossing and catching a Quaffle nonchalantly. "Sorry," he said with a grin, obviously not meaning it at all. He threw the Quaffle straight at Gabriella's head, zoomed forward, and caught it an inch away from her face.

Gabriella didn't even flinch. Instead, she rolled her eyes. "Stop trying to show off in front of Rachelle," she snapped. Then she grabbed the Quaffle from him and shut the window in his face.

"Hey, gimme that back!" Alex yelled.

"Why should I?" Gabrielle asked. "It's **my** Quaffle, after all."

Alex kept on yelling, and Gabriella closed the curtains. "He's such a brat," Christine said.

"Well, he's an only child," Rachelle said.

"You're an only child," Nicole pointed out.

"He grew up without a mom," Rachelle said.

"You grew up without a dad," Nicole persisted.

"Well…eh, I give up," Rachelle said. "But he **is** good."

"Well, he wasn't the best Chaser and Captain on the team for nothing," Gabriella said. "Problem is, it just inflates his head even more."

"What house was he in?" Rachelle asked.

"Slytherin," Gabriella, Christine, and Nicole said in unison. "Just like his dad."

"I wish I had gone to Hogwarts," Rachelle said. "It sounds awesome."

"Where'd you go?" Sirius said.

"Beauxbatons," Rachelle said offhandedly. "It was okay. There were huge ice sculptures, and wood nymphs serenaded us as we ate, and Madame Weasley was the Headmistress. She's your aunt, right?"

"Yeah," James said. "Aunt Fleur. Her and Uncle Bill live up in France."

"You've met their son, right?" Gabriella asked. "He's our age."

"Yeah, Ray," Rachelle said. "He's like, my best friend. Well, until Mom decided to move back here."

"Don't worry," Nicole said. "Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur are gonna be coming down in a couple of days for the wedding."

"When's the wedding?" Rachelle asked.

"In a month or so," Christine said.

"How come they're coming down so early, then?"

"Well, since school's out and all," Nicole said with a shrug. "And it's an excuse to have a big family reunion. Soon everyone will be coming down."

Christine began rattling a list off. "Uncle Gred and Aunt Angelina, Uncle Forge and Aunt Alicia, Uncle Charlie and Aunt Lisa, Uncle Percy and Aunt Penelope, Uncle Oliver and Aunt Katie-"

"But they're not even related to you guys," Rachelle said, puzzled.

"Believe me, _everyone's_ considered family," Christine said, continuing. "Uncle Lee and – um, did he get a new girlfriend?"

"No, I think it's still Tonya," Nicole said.

"Okay," Christine said. "And then Uncle Dean and Aunt Lavender, and Uncle Seamus and Aunt Luna, not to mention all of Jamila's relatives. But they won't be coming until the wedding, thank goodness."

"And you don't even **want **to know all their kids," Nicole said.

The pounding on Gabriella's window got even louder. "Give it up, Alex!" Gabriella yelled.

He didn't. There was a loud crack, and he appeared in her room. "Thought you might like to know that your folks want you downstairs," he said. "**All** of you," he stressed, looking pointedly at Rachelle.

"Fine, whatever," Gabriella said.

* * *

**PB**, "Okay, I really meant to write more than that, but I will be kicked off the computre soon because of my older sis. So, go review, please! Seriously, it's what makes me want to update."


End file.
